Endless Fallout
by mr. weakling
Summary: Very short stories about the Endless of the Fallout Universe.
1. Prologue

Harsh, sandy winds cover this desolate land. Even deep within the ruins of this god-forsaken city, one could feel the touch of dirt on the breeze. Covered under the shadow of a decrepit obelisk, a monument to an ancient king of a dead kingdom, two figures were conversing. One was a rather tall, large man with fox hair and a shaven beard wearing a white shirt that hugged him so tightly that one would think it was painted on; the other was rake-thin and skin and hair white as a lily; even his clothes seemed to be only a part of him like feathers are to a bird.

"Funny seein' you here!" the taller man laughed, red hair swaying in the wind. "How you doin'?"

"I am well… Brother; the others are as well… It has been years perhaps since I last visited the waking world." The white-man's voice was soothing, as if he was singing a long forgotten lullaby.

"Eh, it has…" replied the red-haired giant.

The two of them were standing atop a reflecting pool as if the water was marble, but what it reflected remains lost to the past; they were walking towards another monument where a headless, stone giant sat and stared, if he could, at the perversion of his beloved land. The pair sat at the marble steps, looking at the husk of the obelisk.


	2. Chapter 1: Dreaming of Paradise

We had been travelling for months going eastward. Our group was tasked investigate Washington D.C. the broken capital, to retrieve any technology and, along the way, re-establish contact with our Midwestern Brothers. We failed in re-establishing contact and, so, we continued walking east to where the sun rose and where we would finish our goal.

After several days of non-stop walking, we stopped and made camp under the shadow of a city, dead for centuries… or so we had thought.

It was already dusk, the land was silent. The camp reeked of sweat – from wearing the clunky power armor all this time. Our leader, Owyn Lyons, had instructed the Paladin, Tristan, to investigate the nearby ruins. Casdin was busy practicing and Rothchild was too engrossed in tinkering at our reclaimed artifacts. I volunteered to stand watch until Tristan returned.

* * *

It shames me but I found myself dreaming, lulled by the crippling silence that was the Wasteland. The place I dreamt of was vastly different to where I had slept. The sky was light blue; the trees were brimming with life; the river was clear and flowing. Beside the river I saw a man. The man had white hair and whiter skin, shadows clung to where his eyes were; hanging around his neck was a large faceted-jewel, green in color, reflecting the light of the majestic sun.

He glanced at me and he smiled. "Should you be asleep, Ishmael?" he asked me.

I instinctively grasped my weapon, an AEP7 laser pistol, and pointed at him. "How do you know my name?"

He stared at me like a parent would to a misbehaving child. The wind was blowing and I knew then that what I did was, simply, suicidal. "Is etiquette not a part of your Brotherhood's tenets?" he waved his arm and the weapon that I held dissolved into sand. The wind was now calm and he was staring up at the sky.

"W-who are you?" I asked, trembling in fear.

"One with interest in stories as my predecessor would have said…" he looked at me, stars were shining were his eyes would have been, "It is time to wake up now, Ishmael," he said.

* * *

I was awoken by sounds of laser-fire. My brothers had fought a group of wild men, vicious and disheveled; by the time I awoke they were dead.

Tristan ran over to the center of the camp, "Star Paladin Lyons! Star Paladin Lyons!" he screamed.

"What is it fool? Keep your voice down!"

"The city is… the city is inhabited." Tristan was panting – to think he would run all the way here.

"I had suspected it to be from the intact structures beside the river but still…" Lyons was scratching his chin. "Ashur! Come here!" he called to me.

"May I be of assistance…? Star Paladin Lyons," I asked.

"Has the boring tranquility gotten to you, boy?" He asked me as he gave a wide grin.

"I will rectify this error, Star Paladin." I told him.

He laughed and he patted me on the back. "So, what were you dreaming?"

"Pah! Dreams are for those who cannot ACT!" Tristan glared at me. "Idle nonsense is not for those of the Brotherhood."

It seems the grimness of this world had taken a toll on Paladin Tristan. This world isn't as nice for dreams to come true, "Of course…" I said in agreement to him.

"Of course I am!"

Lyons struck us a glare, "Fools you are!"

"There are few as concrete as dreams…" Star Paladin Lyons said. "What you dream of maybe intangible but dreams… dreams, themselves, are real; I can attest to that."

What happened next, I barely remember... only that: The ruined city was actually inhabited by humans, too mutated, too corrupt and the only way to save them was to purge them – it was Genocide.

* * *

It was night and we marched towards the city; the wild men's weapons could not hurt us, they feared us. Metal demons we were to their eyes and I would have agreed with them but, this is what the Brotherhood does: we protect humanity from themselves or we'd like to believe. PSHEW and BANG, men and women gunned down; the children that did not exhibit changes we saved but the others – we like to think it is for the best but to what degree is there truth in that? …I do not know.

BOOM! An explosion occurred. I was knocked out; separated from the others.

Will I die today? Can dreams ever be fulfilled?

* * *

I opened my eyes but I was not awake. I found myself surrounded by paradise and again, I met a man whose hair was white and his skin was whiter and whose eyes glowed like the stars of creation.

"Am… am I dead?" I asked the man who helped me up.

"That would be my sister's domain… I am afraid." He turned around and picked up a flower. "But I could arrange for the two of you to meet… with your permission, of course.

A table had appeared and he was sitting on a chair and I was sitting in one too, just across him. I did not feel bothered at all, it felt natural.

"Would you like some tea?" he offered me a cup of clear, brownish liquid.

I shook my head, "I do not know what that is…" I confessed.

"Very well…" the cup he offered me changed into a glass of water, "would water, suffice?"

"Thank you..." I took the glass and drank from it. Water as it simply was but it tasted like eternity... it tasted like dreams.

"I suppose… you want to know of your purpose in being here?" he told me, eyes glowing with ephemeral flames.

I nodded.

"I am here to give you a dream…"

"A-a dream?" I asked. What use would dreams be to me? I asked myself but perhaps his words ring true and it would have been foolish to say that aloud.

"Yes… a dream that will guide you to your goal…"

"How can a dream help me?"

He looked at me; his eyes showed infinite wisdom and I shuddered.

"To provide a drive… Ishmael but, whether you succeed or not… I do not know."

"Then why do this?"

"Because even though Destiny is the only one who knows the paths of his garden," He was vanishing. "There are paths unknown to him."

* * *

And he was gone and I was beginning to awake. I had many questions for him. It was too late and I had awoken and I remembered what I dreamt of. I dreamt of: a glorious city, a paradise in this god-forsaken land; in my dream I was told I was its herald, that I would be the king of such a magnificent city. I opened my eyes to see that some of the survivors of the purge were trying to take my armor away. I stood up and they fled…

Today a god has descended in the Pitt.


End file.
